


Not Good Enough

by WrenAndPoppy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Feels, First Time, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Physical Abuse, Rescue, Sappy, Tropes, is there a tag for "a touch of the sexual assault?", jembax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrenAndPoppy/pseuds/WrenAndPoppy
Summary: Anders and Nathaniel are both used to people not believing in them.  It’s weird for them to realize that they believe in each other.  That trust isn’t shared by the Templar following Anders’ trail.Jembax!AU.  Nathaniel/Anders with an unpleasant side of Rylock.Warnings: Isolated instances of physical abuse and almost-sexual-abuse, plus larger patterns of the Circle being an unhealthy place for Anders.  A little self-loathing from both characters.  Tropes everywhere.  This story has a happy ending.





	Not Good Enough

_You’re not good enough._

Nathaniel Howe couldn’t recall if his father had ever said it outright.  The words loomed over his childhood all the same.  He never had the knack for fighting like a warrior.  His opinions were always offensive, his silences were rude.  He never hit it off with the girls that his father introduced him to, never produced the heir that he was duty-bound to produce.

Nathaniel liked to think that he had long since stopped trying to be good enough for anyone.  He liked to think that he’d given up.  But when the Warden looked at him through the bars of a cell and said he was worthy of recruitment, it touched him more than he would admit.

A lifetime of battling darkspawn, and death before his time in the Deep Roads.  At least he was good enough for that.

—-

Once upon a time, Anders had tried to behave.

Mages were disasters waiting to happen, but Anders wouldn’t become that kind of disaster.  He would do well, he would control himself, and no one would have a reason to hate him.  He would be the perfect example of a mage.

Anders was good and quiet and polite and obedient, and the shackles never loosened.  The Templars never looked at him with trust.  One time, when he asked a Templar if he would ever be allowed to leave the Circle, she barked a harsh laugh and called him a filthy mage and told him not to try anything.

Her name was Rylock.  Whenever Anders was in the same room as her, her eyes never left him, following his motions through the slit in her helm.  He kept his head down and behaved himself, but she always _watched,_ like she was waiting for an excuse to take his head off.  

Nothing was ever good enough.  Anders was never good enough.  No matter what, he was always a filthy mage.  After a while, he stopped trying to behave.

—-

Traveling with the Warden was a strange experience for Nathaniel.

He kept having to remind himself that he was a Grey Warden too.  It felt odd to have a place in the world once again, and odder still for it to be a position of honor.  Being treated with respect by townsfolk was strange.  Conversing in a friendly, familiar way with his companions was strange.  

Anders, with his little winks and smirks and flirty banter, was the strangest of all.  It made Nathaniel’s heart skip in a way he didn’t like.

There had been a reason that Nathaniel never hit things off with the girls his father had introduced him to, but that was a dark thought that could never be allowed to see daylight.  Just one more reason he wasn’t good enough.

—-

“Why do you have those jewels?” Nathaniel asked one day.  “Are they attached to you?”

Anders was used to the question.  The golden, faceted jewels on his ears glinted in the dappled sunlight as their group traveled through the woods.  He smiled through his scripted answer without breaking his stride.

“Come touch them and find out.”

Nathaniel scowled and looked away.  He was handsome when he scowled, with that strong jaw and those sharp eyebrows.  Of course, if he was handsome when he _wasn’t_ scowling, Anders wouldn’t know.

It was easier for Anders to flirt than to explain the ritual that had branded his body with glittering jewels.  He’d been bound and naked and gagged, screams of molten agony and pleasure barely muffled by the strip of fabric stuffed into his mouth.  Rylock’s eyes had watched it all through the slit in her helm.  The Circle never knew she had paid someone to do the ritual on him.  A punishment for his escape, she’d said before she brought him back to the tower in chains.  Slavers had done it to him, she told the Knight Commander.

The grip of her armored hand on his arm as she dragged him back into the tower told a different story.   _You’re my toy, and I want you marked as mine._

It was the only thing he was good for.

—-

“Come get drinks with me,” Anders said.

Nathaniel had agreed.  Foolishly, he’d been taken in by the idea that someone wanted to spend time in his company.  He felt stiff and awkward sitting at the quiet bar with Anders in the stool next to him, trying to make conversation.  His opinions felt offensive and his silences felt rude.  By some miracle, Anders didn’t mind.  He laughed and teased and kept talking to Nathaniel, like he was enjoying the exchange.

“One more round,” Anders said, leaning on the bar and resting his flushed cheek in his hand.  “You talk more when you’re drunk.  I like it.”

Nathaniel had agreed.

The night deepened and the bar grew quieter until they were the only two left, nursing tankards of ale.  The warm light from the fire glinted in Anders’ hair and the jewels on his ears.

Nathaniel felt warm and relaxed and a little dizzy when Anders placed a soft hand on his own and leaned closer.  It was sudden and perfect and their lips were about to meet and Nathaniel wanted it with an intensity that terrified him.

That was the dark secret that could never see daylight.

Nathaniel stumbled out of his bar stool, barely catching himself on his feet as the stool clattered to the floor.  Anders wobbled for a moment before catching himself on the bar.  

“ … Oh.  We’re not kissing?” he mumbled.  He pushed himself upright and smiled, cocky and relaxed, like it was no big deal.  “That’s no fun.  I was going to show you  _all_ the jewels on my body.”

Raw panic wrenched Nathaniel away from Anders’ soft smile and out the tavern door, into the cold night.  He nearly collided with someone as he escaped the warmth inside, not bothering to grunt an apology.  The chilly darkness outside swallowed him.

Nathaniel wasn’t good enough for his father, wasn’t good enough for Fereldan, and  _definitely_ wasn’t good enough for Anders.

—-

Anders knew he was a flirt, but maybe he needed to take it easy.  He sighed into the dregs of his ale.

“Didn’t even pay for his drinks,” he grumbled to himself.  “Wouldn’t call that classy.”

He should have known better.  Nathaniel wasn’t the kind of man for a sudden kiss and a quick tumble.  Anders had been drunk and he hadn’t thought things through, he’d been overcome by those eyes and that strong jaw and the way Nathaniel always looked so guarded, just like deep down Anders was guarded…  It made him wonder if they could tear down each other’s walls for just one night.

Anders let out a weary breath and gulped the rest of his ale.  He thumped the tankard against the bar.  “There go my plans for the evening.  Nice going, Anders.”

“Maybe you need a new date,” said a cold voice behind him.

Anders’ blood froze.  He didn’t have to turn around to know who was looming behind him.  He could feel her eyes boring into his back, through the slit of her helm.

He’d tried to outrun her, outrun the Circle.  But he hadn’t been good enough.  She always caught him in the end.

—-

The unmistakable boom of thunder stopped Nathaniel’s flight.  He stumbled to a stop, catching his breath, staring in confusion at the night sky.  A few clouds drifted overhead, but not enough for a storm.

Faint noises echoed through the town’s sleepy streets.  There was a distant shout from the direction of the tavern, and something in the back of Nathaniel’s tipsy, spinning mind knew whose voice that was.  

His drunken legs were moving before he realized it.

—-

Anders _hated_ Templars.  Rylock’s magic-canceling abilities smothered him like a blanket.  He could feel the dead weight of his own worthless powers sitting in the back of his mind like a corpse, inert as her manacled fist crashed into his jaw.

—-

A scorch mark on the wall of the tavern was all that Nathaniel found.

—-

Shackled, just like always.  At least he wasn’t naked this time.

Anders tugged against the cuffs that bound his hands behind a tree, the bark scraping against his back.  The temporary camp was quiet, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the hum of nighttime birds and insects.  The ground was cold and damp under him, the warmth of booze and company long gone.

Rylock was a dark silhouette between Anders and the fire, her armor removed from the waist up, her arms crossed over her chest as she faced away from him.  Anders’ eyes were locked on her, his breath short.  He didn’t like that she had taken him alone this time.  When she brought other Templars, she was always harsh to him, but she knew to keep her distance.

He was at her mercy when no one was watching.

Anders shuddered.  The low, dead thrum of active Templar abilities was making him queasy.  Rylock’s aura was canceling all magic inside the camp, shackles on his mind as well as his wrists.

“You’re quiet,” Rylock accused.  “Where are your snarky comments, Anders?”

Anders had to swallow before speaking.  “D-didn’t want to ruin the moment.”

Rylock turned around.  Anders tried to keep a cocky smile on his face, but it wavered and broke as she strode towards him.  As she knelt down, he tried to press himself back against the tree.

“Do you think we’re having _fun_ right now?” Rylock murmured.

Anders licked his dry lips.  “W-well, you won, right?  Th-that’s always a good time.  Catching the bad mage, sending him back to the tower.”

Rylock reached towards him.  Anders winced and tried to twist his head away, his heart pounding.  His jaw still ached where her armored fist had crunched into his bone and tore his skin, and he didn’t like the way she was looking at him.  He didn’t like how close her hand was to the jewel at the pit of his throat.

 _Come touch them and find out._ It was a line he used as a joke, but the jewels _did_ feel a certain way when someone stroked them, and he didn’t want Rylock making him feel that way.

“Is that why you run away, mage?  For fun?”Rylock’s finger slipped into the gold loop of his earring, and Anders froze.  “I suppose you like it when I catch you, then?”

Anders heart pounded.  He could feel the tug of pressure against the jewel in his ear, a weird little tingle that crept up his spine.  Rylock’s finger pulled on his earring like a leash, and Anders tried not to whimper as she forced his head to tilt, exposing his neck and his other ear.  His breath was ragged and he hated that she could hear how frightened he was.

There was something dark in Rylock’s eyes.  She reached towards him, and Anders flinched but he couldn’t pull away.

He heard a soft twang and a thunk before he saw the arrow.

—-

Nathaniel’s first arrow went through the Templar’s hand before it could reach Anders’ exposed neck, spearing her wrist.  Her scream split the night.  Crouched in the shadows, Nathaniel was already notching another as she snarled curses through clenched teeth.  She hoisted a shield off the ground and lifted it just in time to deflect Nathaniel’s second arrow.  

The next few moments were a blur.  Nathaniel tossed his bow into the bushes and drew his daggers, his legs moving.  His blade clanged off her shield just like his arrow did, her furious eyes locked with his over the rim of the shield before she slammed it into his face.

Between the ringing pain in his head and the reeling world around him, Nathaniel could see a sword being raised, flashing in the firelight.  He tried to catch his footing, one of his daggers lost in favor of clutching his aching head, his vision spinning as he tried to focus on the sword that was coming towards him.

The sword faltered, and never landed.  Nathaniel’s vision settled on a startled-looking Templar, fallen over on her back.  Her footing had been taken out from under her.  Still shackled to the tree, Anders stared at the fallen Templar with wide eyes as though he wasn’t quite sure what he’d done, his leg extended from kicking her feet out.

Nathaniel didn’t pause to think.  He took his one remaining knife and brought it down into her chest.

One more gurgle, and the night was no longer broken by her furious cursing.

“Anders–”  Nathaniel gripped the mage’s shoulders, his breath still heaving from the fight.  “Are you all right?  Did she hurt you?”

—-

Anders had never seen those sharp eyes look so concerned.  For a moment, he forgot to breathe.

“…I’m fine,” he managed.  The words came out strained and he swallowed.  “I– I might not have been, if you hadn’t gotten here.”

Nathaniel’s jaw twitched.  He reached toward Anders, his fingers almost brushing the bruise where Rylock had beaten him, but he jerked his hand back.  Instead of saying anything, he stood and stepped behind the tree.  A moment later, Anders could feel his shackles sliding off.  He rubbed the soreness out of his wrists.

“We should get going,” Nathaniel urged stiffly.  He held out a hand.  “There could be others.”  

Anders took the offered hand, wobbling as Nathaniel hauled him to his feet.  The ground seemed to move under him as Nathaniel guided him out of the camp and into the trees, never letting go of his hand.  It wasn’t until he heard a whinny that Anders realized there was a horse.

Nathaniel let go of Anders to climb into the saddle, but offered his hand again once he was mounted.  “Climb on.”

“Nate –”  Anders gripped the man’s wrist, locking eyes with him.  His heart was still pounding and he hadn’t quite grasped the miracle of his freedom.  “Thank you,” he breathed.  “Really.  Thank you.”

—-

Nathaniel was frozen.  He’d been ready to hear Anders say _“Oh, my hero,”_ or _“Does this make me your damsel in distress?”_ But that wasn’t Anders’ flirting voice, and he didn’t look like he was joking.  The look in his eyes was earnest, vulnerable in a way that Nathaniel had never seen before.

This wasn’t playful flirting.  This was something more raw and intense than Nathaniel was ready to deal with.  He swallowed and pulled on Anders’ arm.

“C-come on, now, mount up!”

To Nathaniel’s relief, Anders let himself be hoisted up into the saddle.  When the mage’s strong, solid body pressed up behind him, arms wrapping around his chest, Nathaniel braced himself for something dirty whispered in his ear.  No words came.  Anders held him tight like he was something valuable, breathing gently against his neck.  Nathaniel’s heart hammered and he urged the horse away, through the trees and into the night.

—-

Someone had thought he was good enough to save.

Anders kept his face buried in Nathaniel’s dark hair as the horse’s smooth, thumping gait carried them through the night.  No one had ever removed his shackles before, not unless they were throwing him into a Circle prison cell.  

Here he was, unshackled and free, all because Nathaniel thought he was worth saving.

A drop of rain on the back of his neck made Anders pull his face out of the warm, soothing darkness of Nathaniel’s hair.  He looked up at the sky, and another raindrop splashed his cheek.

“Uh oh,” he murmured.

Nathaniel cursed under his breath and tugged on the horse’s reins, changing direction.  “I saw an abandoned cabin on my way here.  We’ll take shelter.”

—-

The cabin was small and old, but it looked waterproof.  Nathaniel tethered the horse under an awning while Anders did something weird with glowing lines on the cabin door.  A protective ward maybe, Nathaniel wondered.  By the time they were both done, the rain had become a downpour, and they rushed inside.

“One bed,” Anders teased as he looked around the single, small room.  He wiped rain water off his hair.  “One cramped little bed.  Oh, how _will_ we resolve the sleeping arrangements?”

Nathaniel glared at the smirk on the mage’s face.  “Now there’s the Anders I’m used to.”  It was almost a relief to have Anders flirt with him normally, no more tender looks.

Anders flicked his hand at the empty fireplace, and an orange blaze bloomed into life.  It crackled warmly as Anders sighed and began removing his wet, outer robes, revealing a linen undershirt and simple pants.  Nathaniel tried to avert his eyes, but he couldn’t.  

He frowned suddenly.  “You’re bleeding.”

Anders looked startled.  Without thinking, Nathaniel stepped close, cupping the mage’s scruffy face and tilting his head to look at his ear.  The golden loop that hung just beneath the jewel was crusted with half-dried blood.  He hissed in sympathy.

“O-oh.”  Anders looked away, his cheeks pink in the firelight.  “One last memento from Rylock, I suppose.  She didn’t rip the earring completely out, did she?”

“No…”  Nathaniel gingerly touched his thumb to Anders’ ear, avoiding the small wound.  “But we should get this cleaned up or–”

As Nathaniel’s thumb brushed the sparkling, honey-colored jewel, Anders’ breath hitched in unmistakeable arousal.  Nathaniel’s hand sprang away and he took a step back.

“…What are those jewels _really_ for?” he murmured.

Anders looked breathless.  He gently took Nathaniel’s hands in his own, placing them on his hips and stepping close.

“Touch them,” he said softly, “and find out.”

Nathaniel’s father was dead and his family name disgraced, and he was tired of protecting them both from the fact that he’d only ever fallen in love with men.  He could see raindrops glinting in Anders’ hair, hear the storm drumming against the roof, the crackles of the fire.

If keeping that secret was going to stop him from kissing Anders right now, it wasn’t worth it any more.  Nathaniel closed the distance between them with a weak noise, his eyes sliding closed as their lips met.

—-

Anders didn’t think he’d ever fallen so deep into a kiss that he didn’t want to come up for air.  He fumbled with Nathaniel’s clothes, but it was hard without breaking the embrace.  With the labors of four fumbling hands, Nathaniel’s wet clothes hit the floor as they stumbled towards the bed.  

Anders barely had time to pull his undershirt off before he was collapsing onto the bed and pulling Nathaniel on top of him.  They sunk back into a kiss, Anders tangling one hand in that long dark hair, finally taking a moment to look his breathless lover in the eye as they separated.

“Andraste preserve me,” Anders breathed.  “I’m not good enough for you.”

Nathaniel pulled back with a look of shock.  A broken laugh spilled out of him, harsh and sudden, like it had been building up inside him for years.  He rested his head against Anders’ bare chest and laughed.

“D-did I say something funny?” Anders chuckled.

Nathaniel was still smiling as he cupped Anders’ face and pressed a deep, hard kiss against his mouth.  He pulled back with a sigh.

“Yes,” he replied.  “The silliest thing you’ve ever said.”  He ducked his head, and his next kiss was pressed against the jewel at the pit of Anders’ throat, drawing a shudder from him.

Rain drummed outside, and the fireplace crackled.  Anders’ soft moans joined the music of the night as Nathaniel’s lips wandered his body.

—-

Nathaniel’s brief experiences with women had been lackluster and noncommittal.  He’d kissed some of them, and once he’d gotten shirtless with a visiting dignitary’s daughter, but he always ended the encounters before they could realize that his heart wasn’t in it.  The few times that Nathaniel had felt desire, the boy in question hadn’t been available.  He’d never been with a lover that he _wanted._

Now, with Anders sprawled beneath him, his bare chest heaving and still damp from the rain, Nathaniel couldn’t believe the hunger that was surging through him.  The mage’s hair and his eyes and his glittering jewels were all glowing in the firelight, his body soft from the Circle but hard from running.  He was so warm and close and _physical,_ too real to be this good, too good to be this real.

Suddenly, just looking at him wasn’t enough.  A soft, desperate noise that Nathaniel didn’t know he could make slipped out of him, and he buried his face in Anders’ neck, kissing the soft skin.

Nathaniel didn’t plan to take his eyes or his hands or his lips off Anders’ body until the sun rose.

—-

Anders was no stranger to a lover’s touch – it was a point of pride that he get laid at least once per escape, and even in between escapes, the Circle was not as chaste as the Templars liked to think it was – but he never pretended to be cool and collected about the whole thing.  He knew that kisses made him breathless, that hands wandering his body made him moan.  He’d been a very responsive lover even before the ritual that covered his body in sensitive jewels.

He was prepared to fall apart in Nathaniel’s hands, but he wasn’t prepared for the way that Nathaniel mirrored each of his moans, as though every touch and lick and slow, sucking kiss was tied straight into his own nerves, as though they shared skin.  

—-

The jewel that studded Anders’ ear was smooth and warm against Nathaniel’s tongue, and each slow lick and suck made Anders groan.

“Mmh – ”  Anders’ hand was shaky as it tangled in Nathaniel’s hair, a silent plea for more.  “Nnh, _yes… ”_

Tearing himself away from that sweet, honey-colored jewel was a trial, but it was worth it to softly nip his way down Anders’ chest.  The blond fuzz between Anders’ pectoral muscles tickled Nathaniel’s lips.  He found a nipple and sucked a slow, hungry kiss over it until Anders was quivering against the bed and gasping his name.

“D-damn it, Nate, _please,_ ” Anders spilled out at last.  “Maker take me, you’re the most patient virgin I’ve ever met!”

Nathaniel pulled back sharply.  He must have scowled, because Anders immediately looked sheepish.

“Ah… or maybe you’re not a virgin?  Assumptions, heh, I really shouldn’t – ”

“ … It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Nathaniel grunted.

Anders laughed.  “Not from your performance in bed!”  He cleared his throat.  “Ah, what I mean is… keep going, please.”

He wore a hopeful smile, his ponytail half-undone, a dream against the sheets.  Nathaniel swallowed, his face heating.  He had no idea how to live that dream.

Anders’ gaze softened.  “ … Maker’s breath, you’re not sure what to do next, are you?”

Nathaniel turned his face away so Anders wouldn’t see it flush.  His brief, guilty fantasies about other men had always been cut short once he got to this point.   _Don’t think about it.  You’ll never get to have it._  He’d never thought about what came _next._

Anders placed a gentle hand against Nathaniel’s bare chest.  “Lie down.”

—-

It was like approaching a skittish stallion.  

Nathaniel responded with twitchy nervousness to Anders’ direction.  His dark hair was slipping out of its normal rigid order, falling across his face in strands that he would pause to brush away, his face hot and his breath quick as he flopped down on the bed.

Anders smiled and leaned over him.  “You’re _very_ attractive when you’re flustered.”

Nathaniel’s brow managed to furrow even _more,_ somehow.  Anders chuckled and kissed the man’s cheek before kissing his way down Nathaniel’s toned chest.  His hands wandered ahead of his lips, undoing the leather breeches by touch.  He could feel a promising hot bulge against his hand, his patience waning as he nipped over Nathaniel’s hip.  When he felt a shaky hand touch his hair, cupping his head encouragingly, Anders groaned.  He was breathless as he pulled Nathaniel’s breeches down.

“Ah… A-Anders…”

Anders wanted to drag this moment out, tease Nathaniel just a little more, but he found he couldn’t.  The moment Nathaniel’s arousal was loose from his pants, flushed and firm and needy, Anders swallowed it to the base.

—-

Nathaniel cursed and his hips _bucked_ up into Anders mouth, his hand fisting in that golden hair.  Hot wet tight _squeezing_ warmth enveloped him, Anders’ lips pressed around the base of his cock.

“Mmmmmmh!”  Anders shuddered against the bed, grabbing Nathaniel’s hips and groaning around his shaft.  He came up gasping, his lips slick, his face flushed with need.

Nathaniel’s whole body was still humming as he stroked his shaking hand over Anders’ hair in apology.  “S-sorry…”

Anders groaned softly and pressed his lips to Nathaniel’s skin again.  “Don’t be,” he panted.  “Do it again.”

Nathaniel bit his lip.  Hesitantly, he tangled his fingers in the mage’s golden hair and urged Anders’ mouth back down onto him.  Anders let out a low noise of appreciation, doing something with his tongue that had Nathaniel breathless.  He cupped Anders’ face, panting as he watched the man’s mouth slide up and down him.  Anders let out a needy breath when Nathaniel’s fingertip brushed his ear, flicking over the jewel.

“Y-you’re working magic right now, aren’t you?” Nathaniel accused.

Anders slid his mouth off, wearing a familiar naughty smirk behind Nathaniel’s slick cock.

“Nate, are you _teasing_ me?”

“I’m trying.”

Anders smiled.  “It’s a good look on you.”  He sat up and climbed off the bed, leaving Nathaniel breathless and aroused.  With a smirk, Anders undid his own ponytail, letting his hair fall loose before unlacing his breeches.  By the time they slid to the floor, Nathaniel had sat up on the bed to take in the view.

“ _That’s_ a good look on you,” he blurted.

Anders laughed.  He climbed back onto the bed, swinging his leg over Nathaniel and leaning over him until their noses bumped.  Nathaniel’s heart pounded as Anders’ fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him into a slow kiss, their bare bodies pressed together in a way he’d never been pressed against someone before.  Nathaniel slid his hands slowly down Anders’ back.  Jewels trailed down the mage’s spine, smooth warm bumps that Nathaniel’s fingers brushed over.  Each time, Anders moaned into the kiss.  He finally broke it with a gasp.

“I want you inside me,” he panted.

Nathaniel’s arms tightened around Anders and he pulled him back into a kiss.

—-

This wasn’t the first virgin that Anders had slept with.  It was always a special sort of thrill, being the first one to receive all that pent-up sexual need.  He chewed Nathaniel’s lip eagerly as he pushed back against that slick shaft, feeling it twitch against him.  As he began to sink down on it, a smooth slow glide, he moaned.

Nathaniel never let him go.  He kept his strong arms wrapped around Anders’ body as they rocked against each other, holding him close.

—-

“ … The rain’s stopped,” Nathaniel murmured.

Anders smiled and leaned over him, loose blond hair falling over his shoulder.  “And?”

It was hard to scowl at the man when he looked this perfect, firelight catching in his hair, glittering in the gemstones on his bare body.  “ _And,_ ” Nathaniel tried, “we should get on the road.”

His heart wasn’t in it.  He suspected Anders could tell.

“Mm-hm.”  Anders trailed his hand down Nathaniel’s bare chest.  “Give me one good reason to get out of bed.”

“Your knee is digging into my ribs,” Nathaniel grumbled.  He let out a soft breath as Anders’ hand slid under the sheets.

“Hm.”  Anders leaned closer, his lips brushing Nathaniel’s.  “Not good enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, readers! Wren here! I wanted to make a little note about the type of AU this is. The concept of erogenous jewels being magically implanted in the skin is something that I came up with. I'm totally fine with other people playing around with the idea and writing their own stories with it, though I always appreciate credit and I'd love to see what you make!


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